(love)

IT ALL STARTED WHEN...

The idea of attending class gave me an anxiety attack.

Every day, right as I was about to leave my house, a feeling would creep its way into my lungs and constrict them. 

Panting, panting, trying to breathe, panting - I could hear my blood rushing through my veins, pushing on through to my heart, surging faster, looking for the oxygen. 

I would pull my blanket above my head, put on my headphones, and listen to the music. Any music. Knees pulled up against my chest, arms hugging them closer until I could feel myself calming down. 

"YOU'RE OKAY, YOU'RE OKAY, YOU'RE OKAY, YOU'RE OKAY, YOU'RE OKAY, IT'S FINE, SHHH JUST BREATH, YOU'RE OKAY, YOU'RE OKAY, YOU'RE OKAY, YOU'RE OKAY, IT'S FINE, IT'S FINE, THIS WILL PASS, THIS FEELING WILL PASS,

YOU'RE OKAY."

When the wracking sobs dissipated from my body and the anxiety had released my lungs, I would quietly wipe my tears and go to the bus stop.

I don't know why I didn't just stop going. I always ended up making my way to class. I planned my day to include the daily panic attack. Rather than try and understand what was causing me this daily pain, I pushed through it, accepted it as part of my routine, and made space for it.

I hated myself for it. I felt weak - why couldn't my brain and body communicate so that I didn't have to suffer the way I had to just to attend class? I hated myself. I felt helpless, useless, like the sticky pool left behind in a garbage bin. Life became a routine that I followed like the ocean's waves:

WAKE UP, GET READY, ANXIETY ATTACK--

CLASSES, LUNCH, CLASSES, WORK, HOME, DINNER, SLEEP,

WAKE UP, GET READY, ANXIETY ATTACK-- 

CLASSES, LUNCH, ANXIETY ATTACK-- 

CLASSES, WORK, HOME, DINNER, SLEEP,

WAKE UP, ANXIETY ATTACK-- 

GET READY, ANXIETY ATTACK--

SLEEP,

WAKE UP, DINNER, SLEEP,

WAKE UP, GET READY, ANXIETY ATTACK-- 

CLASSES, LUNCH, CLASSES, WORK, HOME, DINNER, ANXIETY ATTACK-- 

SLEEP,

WAKE UP, ANXIETY ATTACK--

SLEEP,

WAKE UP, GET READY, CLASSES, LUNCH, CLASSES, HOME, DINNER, SLEEP,

WAKE UP.

I blamed everyone around me for the way I felt -

It was because I hadn't finished this essay in time.

NO, IT WAS BECAUSE MAMA SAID SOMETHING TO ME!

No, wait, it was papa. He always starts a fight with me the day before my exam.

IT WAS DEFINITELY HIM - HE'S NEVER AROUND WHEN I NEED HIM!

No, that can't be. It was papa again. It has to be.

I'M SURE IT WAS MAMA'S FAULT THIS TIME. SHE'S ALWAYS MEAN.

No, it was always me. I was my own obstacle, my own worst enemy. I erected a mountain in my path so I could not finish laundry. I would deflate my own tires so I would not be able to go outside. I would tie myself to my bed so that I could not move and had to lay in bed. I made myself lethargic, lazy, incompetent, undependable, ugly. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw her - long stringy hair, crows feet at seventeen, flesh spilling out from too-tight clothes, and a scowl. Always a scowl.

I hated her.